Catalyst: Memoirs
by Michelle Lancaster
Summary: The thoughts and feelings of Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs, both before and after the day everything changed. Complete and reedited
1. Before: Prongs

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling, and the song belongs to Garth Brooks. It's called "A Friend to Me."

**CATALYST: MEMOIRS**

_Well you and I_

_We're buddies_

_And we've been since we first met_

_Me and you_

_Well, we've sure been through_

_Our share of laughter and regret._

_Lord knows we've had our bad days_

_And more than once we've disagreed_

_But you've always been_

_A friend to me._

_You can be so stubborn_

_There's times I think you just like to fight_

_And I hope and pray_

_I live to see a day_

_When you say I might be right._

_And there's times I'd rather kill you_

_Than listen to your honesty_

_But you've always been_

_A friend to me._

_You've always been_

_Time and again_

_The one to take my hand_

_And show me_

_It's okay to be_

_Just the way I am_

_With no apology…_

_Oh, you've always been…_

_And you will 'til God knows when…_

_Yes, you've always been…_

_A friend to me…_

**Before**

Prongs

            When I was younger, whenever I tried to decide on the best day of my life, I always ended up with a tie.  Was it the day I met Lily?  The day I met Sirius?  Maybe it was when I became an Animagus?

            I thought I had found a winner once and for all the day I married Lily Evans, my high school sweetheart and the only woman I ever wanted, with Sirius Black as my best man.  What could be better than having my best friend standing next to me as I started the rest of my life with the woman I loved so much it made me crazy?  She had been making me crazy from the time I was thirteen, and he been making me laugh from the time I was eleven.  That moment was perfect.

            Then came July 31, 1980, and any other day of my life instantly didn't matter.  Far and away, there was nothing more beautiful than the instant I saw my son for the first time, when my wife handed him to me for the first time, when we were all together on the first day of his life.  I remember thinking that the human heart couldn't possibly hold so much emotion.  I remember whispering for the first time, "Harry James Potter… I love you."  I kissed his little forehead, his perfect little forehead, and I kissed Lily's lips, her perfect little lips, and said, "Lily May Evans Potter… I love you, too."  We were a family and there was nothing else in the world.

            However, there were other things in the world, of course, and not all of them were good.  In fact, the world Harry was born into was mostly things that weren't good.  In 1980, all of wizarding Europe was living in fear, particularly Britain.  The greatest witches and wizards of the age were being killed by the most fearful wizard of all time—Lord Voldemort, whose name so many feared to speak.

            Only one man stood against Voldemort.  Albus Dumbledore was the only force more powerful than Voldemort's evil, and Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix was the only alliance that stood any chance against Voldemort's Death Eaters.  I was a member, and so was Lily, and so were our three dearest friends, my dearest friends since our days at Hogwarts: Sirius Black, Peter Pettigrew, and Remus Lupin.

            Sirius Black was my best friend—that was clear.  He was a pure-blood from an old money family like mine, but unlike mine, his were closed-minded and thought that Muggles and Muggle-borns should be killed off.  Like me, Sirius was a prankster.  Unlike me, he was the epitome of that sexy rebel type that girls love: he was good-looking, popular, rich, smart and tough.  He rode a flying motorcycle, he ran away from home… there were lots of things that people didn't know about him, and I'm not sure if they would have believed those things.  Regardless, nobody messed with the duo of Black and Potter, the two students on top of every class who had the power to curse you into oblivion or make you a total social outcast.  Or both.  Severus Snape was the greasy Slytherin kid that we targeted most often, but that's another story.

            Peter Pettigrew wasn't really talented or really smart.  I guess he was average, but compared to the rest of us, he seemed pretty…dumb.  He was the tag-along in the group, but we didn't really mind.  Everyone needs an audience, and since he laughed at our jokes and everything, he was always a part of the fun.  There's really not much else to say about Peter; teenagers didn't come any more typical than him.  Not particularly good or bad at anything, not really handsome or really ugly, not really rich or really poor.  Dead centre, that's Peter.

            Remus Lupin was just as smart as Sirius and I, but his brains came through hard work instead of talent and cruising.  If it sounds like I'm bragging, I'm not.  I have much more respect for the way Remus did things than the way Sirius and I did.  We were absolutely horrific brats, to be honest.  Remus was a bookworm and a prefect, the teachers' favourite, cool by association, but he was also a werewolf.  He was the last person anyone would expect to turn into a murderous monster once a month, but he did.  He hated it.  Well…wouldn't anyone?  He hated being isolated and feared, and it made him so desperate to have friends that he never told us about his lycanthropy.  I guess he was just hoping against hope that Sirius and I wouldn't be as smart as we were, because it didn't take us long at all to figure out the truth.  He was worried we'd desert him, but one thing we have is loyalty. Sirius is much more loyal than he seems, and so am I.  Anyway, we decided we could keep Remus company by becoming Animagi, since werewolves don't really hurt animals.  So we worked out how… Okay, not Peter, really, because he wasn't that smart.  We told him how.  We pulled off the spell successfully, and it was from out Animagus forms that we got our nicknames.

            While Sirius was the definition of the "cool guy" and Peter was the definition of the "follower," Remus was, pure and simple, a "nice guy."  The nicest guy I have had the pleasure of meeting.  But he would do anything to keep friends, and… That's another story, too.

            Personally, I'm more like Sirius than any of the others.  I was into pranks and everything, but where he had flawless good looks, I had Quidditch talent.  I often laughingly suggested that if you mixed my athleticism with Sirius' looks and Remus' general goodness—not to mention the smarts we all had—you'd have any girl's idea of the perfect man.

            After graduation, the good old days of the mischief, for which we were all so well-known, had to end.  Life became serious, and not just because of jobs and families and the usual adult responsibilities.  We joined the Order of the Phoenix, because we couldn't sit by and watch innocent people being slaughtered, but the bottom line was that we were losing the war.  There weren't enough of us.  Voldemort was killing us all.  We had nowhere to turn; enemies were everywhere, allies were scarce.  And I, Lily and Harry were at the top of the Dark Lord's hit list.

            I suppose I should explain a little more.  First of all, understand that Dumbledore was a dear friend of ours.  Second of all, understand that Lily and I were both powerfully magical, and the odds were strong that Harry would grow up to be even more so.  Both of these things made us targets for Voldemort's wrath, but there was a third factor which put us directly in the line of fire.  Our baby son became Voldemort's obsession.  He would stop at nothing to see Harry dead, and that meant Lily and I, too, because he could never kill our son while we yet breathed.  We would protect Harry or die trying.

            This third factor was a prophecy made on a rainy night in March of the year Harry was born; Dumbledore heard it.  It declared that there would be born a boy with the power to defeat Voldemort.  He would be born at the end of July.  He would be born to parents who had three times escaped Voldemort's wrath.  He would either murder Voldemort or be murdered by him.  And Voldemort would mark him as his own equal.  At the time this was all predicted, Lily was five months pregnant.

            Dumbledore told us about the prophecy.  If we had a baby boy at the end of July, he said, that child would fit the description of the one foretold… and we would have to guard him, not just because he was our son, but because on his shoulders would rest the safety of the world.

            When Harry was born, it was, as I said, the most beautiful day of my life.  It also became the day that Lily and I took on an even greater burden than that which we already bore.  However, we weren't yet sure if Harry was indeed the one of which the prophecy spoke.  Alice Longbottom had just had a son, too, with her husband Frank.  They were both pure-blood wizards of a very good line, whereas Lily was a Muggle-born witch.  Did this mean that Harry, as a half-blood, would not be Voldemort's target?  Certainly the Dark Lord hated all those who weren't pure-blood, considering them worthless and useless.  Did that mean he wouldn't consider our son to be a threat?  Would he chose Harry Potter or Neville Longbottom as the one to mark as his equal, the one who could destroy him?

            All this set the scene for a story.  It would become a part of history, some of it.  Other parts would be entirely forgotten or misconstrued or just made up.  The part of the story that is now legend is the middle; few people live who know the beginning.  No one lives who was there.


	2. Before: Padfoot

Padfoot

            Do you know what I hate?

            Disloyalty.  Distrust.  When you feel that little bit of fear growing inside you that makes you wonder if you're safe turning your back on your best friends.  Most people are lucky enough to go through life without ever having to wonder if the people they've grown up and trusted their lives with are trying to kill them.  I wasn't so lucky—I've never been lucky.

            I suppose fate smiled on me when I was born into a wealthy family, but it was a family that hated me.  I was a Gryffindor and they were all Slytherins… Do I really need to explain any further?  I physically cut them out of my life when I was sixteen, but really I had shut them out long before that.  I began a life that was good.

            At eleven, I had made friends with the three other Gryffindor boys in my year.  At twelve, I learned that one of our friends was a werewolf.  At fifteen, the other three of us became Animagi.  At sixteen, I ran away from home.  At seventeen, I got a place of my own and built my own life.  At eighteen, I graduated form Hogwarts and joined the Order of the Phoenix.  At twenty, I was best man at my best friend's wedding.  At twenty-one, I became a godfather to their son.  That's all that really matters about the first years of my life.  That is, that's all that really matters to the public.  My private life is mine; if it becomes relevant, I'll share it, but until then, it's not important to tell the world.

            My life beyond when I was twenty-one really is history, though it's been twisted so that it's really more like myth.  It's a story about betrayal and paranoia.  It begins with the paranoia.

            Someone was after James and his family, and that was an issue close to my heart.  James was like a brother to me, Lily was like a sister, and Harry was like my own son.  I pride myself on being as loyal as is humanly possible, or more.  I show no fear when it comes to matters of my friends, or matters of many other things, for that matter.  People often thought I was kind of wild and insensitive; I never minded that reputation, because I was young and danger was fun.  I still think things that don't have at least a small risk are pretty boring, but I've learned that being known to the world as a rebel—with or without a cause—can be dangerous.  It made people think I wasn't a loyal friend, and if there's one thing I'll keep insisting until time ends, it's that _I am a loyal friend_.  I want the world to know that, if they know nothing else about me.  Forget that I was rich and popular and handsome and powerful if you want, I don't care.  But remember that my conscience is clear about my loyalties.

            I was bound and determined to keep James, Lily and Harry safe, if I had to give up my own life or anything else in order to do it.  I can say with a straight face and complete sincerity that if Voldemort had been willing to take my life in exchange for theirs, I would have prostrated myself before him.  But I knew about the prophecy, so I knew that would never work.  Besides, James was just like me; he would have tried to stop me from giving myself up for him.  Suicide is never the answer, no matter how hopeless life seems.  Never.

            At first, it wasn't really hard to keep the Potters safe.  Dumbledore is just as smart and tricky as Voldemort, if not more so, and he understands the way the Dark Arts think to a degree that's really uncanny.  But then things changed, and it became obvious that Harry was the one in the prophecy.  Voldemort had chosen him.

            Those of us who were close to the Potters began receiving owls trying to persuade us to give up information:

            _You are losing this war.  Soon, we will control the world and be merciless against those who have not supported us.  It is not too late for you to repent and join the winning side.  Give us information about your friends, and we will not consider you an enemy._

_            If you do not join us, you will be considered an opponent.  If you're not with us, you're against us.  Surrender before you are forced to_.

            Needless to say, I got more than a few.  So did Remus and Peter; there was no doubt about who the Death Eater's meant by the phrase "your friends;" the Potters and Dumbledore himself.  At first I simply ignored the owls, but when they didn't stop, I wrote back:

            _I will never turn over my friends to you, no matter what you threaten me with.  I would sooner die than live in your world._

_            You say you'll consider me an opponent if I don't support you, and that if I'm not with you, then I must be against you.  Well, just so there's no confusion—I am your opponent.  I am against you._

_            Kill me if you want, but that will just give my friends another reason to want you dead.  My godson included_.

            I don't know if they knew who my godson was, but I'm sure they could figure it out.  It was my own way of threatening them, showing them that I knew what they wanted and I knew what their weakness was.  I thought that these owls were a nuisance, of course, but not really a problem because none of our friends would give in to the threats, no matter how persistent they were.

            I always hate being wrong, but in matters like these where life and death are at stake… People really need to be sure they know what they're getting into when they let me down.

            A few weeks after the owls started, it became clear that someone had cracked.  The Death Eaters had information about the Potters, who started receiving very personalized threats.  Someone left a bouquet of petunias on their doorstep, with a card that read, _We can kill her, too_.  Lily knew it meant her sister, and although they were enemies, the threat showed an intimate knowledge of her life.  It unnerved her.  It unnerved all of us—only a very few people knew Lily had a sister at all.  Someone on our side had to have told them.  Someone was a traitor.  We didn't know who... I was beginning to get an idea, though, of who might be stabbing us in the back.  I didn't want to think it, it didn't want it to be possible, I told myself over and over that it was impossible, but the suspicion lurked unbidden in the back of my mind.

            The most terrifying was the one threat that we never even told Dumbledore about.  One morning, when James opened the door to grab the newspaper, he found a sight that nearly made him sick—a dead fawn.  The note tied around its grotesquely bent neck had two words scrawled in sharp, black writing: _Little Prongs_.

            They summoned me right away when they received it.  When I Apparated in their living room, Lily was clutching Harry and crying, and James was white as a ghost and shaking as he wandered about aimlessly.

            "What is it?" I asked as soon as I saw them.

            Wordlessly, James pointed to the open door, and I saw the carcass of the animal lying there, innocent eyes staring blankly.  It made me, too, feel dizzy with horror.  I remember fighting the bile in my throat as I closed the door so that I wouldn't have to look at it.  Not that closing the door made a difference when the image had seared itself into my mind's eye.

            They had every reason to be so terrified; Little Prongs was my nickname for Harry, because he looked so much like his father.  The joke was that it was his Indian name.  The only people who knew about it, besides those of us in the room, were Remus and Peter.  That meant that one of them was the spy, and had told Voldemort every detail of our lives.  The feeling I got at that moment, of my stomach dissolving and sinking beyond the core of my body, was unforgettable and horrible, without a doubt one of the worst sensations which a human being can endure.  This confirmed my suspicion.

            I remember looking into James' face and seeing a terror there that I had never seen in my life.  James was as fearless as me, and yet here he was on the verge of tears.  His son was his life, and Voldemort wanted him dead, and one of our best friends was helping that happen.  There was nothing I could say.  There was nothing I could do.  I hate being helpless.

            It was Dumbledore who came up with the idea, two days later, that would keep them safe.  We never did know why the timing was so exact—maybe he did know about the threat.  At the time, we were all just too grateful that there was hope for Harry to think about the logistics.

            Now we come to the part everyone knows.  Dumbledore suggested the Fidelius Charm, and James insisted that I be the Secret Keeper.  That's all people know; the rest is lies and careful omissions.  For example, no one thinks of the fact that James and Lily didn't want to perform the charm in the first place.  In order for their home to be a secret, they would have to uproot entirely and move to a new neighbourhood.  They didn't want to destroy their old lives, but they knew they didn't have a choice.  They had to do it, for Harry.

            Their son was over a year old by now.  He was walking, he could say a few words: "Mama," "Dada," "food," "no," and "hi." Attempts as his own name came out as "Ha-ee"…and then there was "Siiiiis!"  That was what he called me, and he always said it with exuberance.  James tried to coin the moniker "Uncle Padfoot," and though he could manage "Unnle Paffoo" when he really tried, Harry seemed to have more fun fitting as many i's as possible into my name to draw out that one syllable indefinitely.  Even when he was fifteen, I looked at Harry and saw the grinning baby who called me by those titles.  I don't think he ever caught me just watching him and smiling, remembering…wishing…

            It is true that James and Lily wanted me to be their Secret Keeper.  They confronted me about it the very day after Dumbledore had presented them with the concept.

            "You're Harry's godfather," Lily said.  "We've already entrusted you with the most important thing in the world to us."

            "We know that we can trust you," James told me.  "And right now… It's impossible to know if we can trust anyone else."

            I know it cost him a great deal to say that.  I could hear it in the way his voice dropped, and I hated that the world had become a place where people as wonderful and James and Lily Potter didn't have anyone to trust.  I wonder if they knew that my answer was as difficult for me to give as it was for them to receive.

            "I would do anything for you," I began.  "Anything.  And that includes this.  But I don't think I'm the smartest choice."

            They both stared at me in disbelief.  "Why not?"

            I shook my head.  "I'm too obvious.  It'll take the Death Eaters about a minute to find out that you've used the Fidelius Charm, and then who's the first person they're going to run to?  I'm not saying I'd crack under torture, because there's no way in hell that I would, but I just think it would be safer to use someone who they won't even think of."

            "You're not suggesting Dumbledore, then, I guess," said James slowly, frowning.  "He's just as obvious as you."

            I nodded.  "I'm suggesting we figure out which of our friends is the spy—Remus or Peter—and then make the other your Secret Keeper."

            Lily gasped.  "That's so dangerous!  What if we guess wrong?"

            I didn't want to have to say this… It was the worst thing I'd ever had to do.  I have never so dearly wished to be wrong about something—and yet so regretted it when that wish came true.

            Yet at the time, I was sure.  I forced the words out.  "I don't think we will guess wrong.  I think I know who the spy is."

            The silence that greeted these words was not unexpected.  Like me, Lily and James didn't want to think that any of their friends could be responsible for the horrors in their lives, and though they were intellectually aware that it was true, they couldn't admit it to their hearts.  Hearing me say it made it somehow more real, to them and to me.

            "Oh," said James in a flat voice finally.  Then, anger growing in his tone, "But… how can you be sure?  How can you even suspect that one of our friends—?"

            "I don't want to," I interrupted him, before he could go off on a rant.  "Believe me, I love our friends as much as you do, and I desperately wish that… But that's not the point.  I've been thinking about this for a long time, and I think there's only one conclusion we can come to."

            More silence.  I wanted them to ask me to say it, to force me to.  They didn't want to.  I couldn't blame them.

            "It's… I think it's…Lupin."

            I called him by his last name because it was less personal.  Remus was our smart, fun friend that we talked to about just about anything.  Moony was our once a month crazy adventure buddy on four legs.  They wouldn't betray us; Lupin, however, might.  Calling him by a title I normally didn't use made him seem like a stranger.

            "Remus?" breathed Lily.

            "Why?" demanded James.

            They didn't believe me.  I closed my eyes.  Why did they have to make this so hard for all of us?  Why couldn't they just accept it?

            Not that I could accept it, if I was honest with myself.  Idly saying that Remus was a traitor was one thing, but to actually act on that suspicion was something I didn't know if I could face.

            "Because he's smart," I said.  "And he's independent.  And he'll do anything to get friends.  And he's experienced with lying and concealing information."

            "But he's _loyal_.  He's our _friend_, and he'll do anything for us."

            "I know, James, I know!"  I pounded the table with my fist, frustrated with the whole situation.  "But Peter's our friend, too, but one of them's…  Look, don't you think it's hard enough for me to suggest this?  I don't want to believe it either, James, I don't, but we have to!  For our own safety!  For Harry's safety!"

            "You're making me choose between my most trusted friends and my son?" James shouted, standing up.

            I rose to my feet as well.  "_Voldemort's_ making you choose!  If it were up to me, none of us would ever have to doubt each other!  No Dark Lord would be trying to kill you and none of our friends would be stabbing us in the back!"

            "I don't want to sink to his level by turning on the people who, for all I know, are trying to save me—"

            "_I'm_ trying to save you, James!  And for all you know, they're trying to kill you!  We don't know _anything_ for sure!"

            "Then how do I know _you're_ not the traitor?"

            His voice came out in booming tones, ringing through the room.  I couldn't think of an answer.  We simply stared at each other.  Then Lily said in a quiet, firm voice, "James, sit down.  Sirius…"

            I sat before she could tell me to and ran my fingers through my hair, exasperated.  I didn't know whether his accusation was proving my point or not.  "God damn it," I whispered in frustration.

            "Sirius," said Lily after a moment of unbearable silence, "We know you're only trying to help, we know you'd never do anything to hurt us…"

            "No," I said calmly.  "No, you don't know that.  You believe it, and I know it, and I hope to God you keep believing it, because it's true.  But you don't _know_ it.  You don't know who you can trust.  Maybe you can't even trust Dumbledore.  You have to choose who you're going to trust, and you also have to choose who not to trust.  I can tell you what I would do…and what I believe…but that's all, because I don't know any more than you do."

            Another silence followed this, but it was a clear, calm, resigned silence instead of that horrible stunned silence attached to my previous revelations.  Then James said quietly, "So what would you do?"

            "I would trust me, Dumbledore, Peter, and each other.  And that's all."

            Silence again.

            "Why… why not Remus?" Lily asked tentatively.

            "All I'm saying is, if I were a Death Eater, I'd find Remus a much better ally than Peter.  Peter follows us around, James, worshipping the ground we walk on.  Remus has a mind of his own, and he's smart.  He's faced oppression all his life, I guess he could think the Death Eaters are a good way to seek some revenge.  I'm sure they wouldn't turn down a werewolf among their ranks."

            "There's more to Remus than just lycanthropy," James snapped irritably.

            "Don't you think I know that?  But Death Eaters would certainly find that a valuable asset, wouldn't they?  It's like I said before.  Remus likes to be liked.  Not just that, he desperately needs acceptance to survive.  If he finds a group of people that appreciate all aspects of him, even the darker ones, wouldn't he want to join?  Wouldn't he do anything to fit in?"

            "_We_ appreciate all aspects of him," James retorted stubbornly.

            "Have you honestly never wished that he wasn't a werewolf?"

            Silence again.  The stubborn silence of James Potter when he doesn't want to admit that I'm right.

            "So what do we do?"


	3. Before: Moony

Moony

            My life has been full of regrets.  I have become desensitized to them—I regret that I was foolish enough to get the bite, I regret that I never told my friends when they were out of line… But I know all of those things are pointless longings, and so I let them go.  But there are a few things I can never forget, for they continue to eat me alive.  Why didn't I see the signs?  Why didn't I warn them?

            To be fair to myself, I must keep the mantra in my mind that it wasn't my fault, there was nothing I could do, I couldn't have been expected to know.  Hindsight is twenty-twenty, they say; how could I have known that my friends thought I was trying to kill them?  Even if I had known, would I have been able to convince them otherwise?  Would I have been able to save their lives?

            Maybe it was all meant to be; it made Harry a stronger person.  That was what I told myself when I knew him—some part of me knew I was lying to keep my distance, to keep myself from admitting that I still cared for him, that I still saw the baby I knew years ago.  When I had to leave him, I had to drop the lies.  I couldn't keep pretending that he was just another student to me any more than Sirius was just a murderer on the run.  My connections ran too deep.  The last day I was at Hogwarts, when I looked into his face for what I thought might be the last time, the realization I had been fighting against struck me.  He never deserved that suffering.  None of us did.  Yet there was nothing any of us could do about it.  I suppose Harry Potter taught me that sometimes life is hopeless.

            Even still, I think that maybe it didn't have to be hopeless when all of this started.  I suppose I've always been a bit idealistic, though I developed a strong pessimistic streak.  The point is that I've always thought I should have noticed that I was being cut out of the loop.  Being so desperate to be included in everything, to be appreciated and not labeled a monster, I should have seen it.

            They didn't cut me out on a large scale, because of course they didn't want me to realize that they suspected anything—you don't tell spies that you think they're spies.  You act natural, and hope they don't notice that you've stopped confiding in them.  So I came to Harry's first birthday party, and we continued to spend the full moons together, but spending time together casually stopped altogether.  I credited it to the fact that they were all busy dealing with the war; I never heard about that last threat, the one that convinced them either Peter or I was the spy.  Of course it bothered me that distance was growing between us, but I was confident that when everything was said and done, when the war had ended with our victory, we'd be Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs again.

            I remember the day they told me of the plan.  Their faces were grave, Lily's and James' and Sirius'.  I try to sum up the memory of how Peter looked, but I just can't do it.  All my memories of him now are blurred and distorted, tainted by his betrayal.

            James spoke first.

            "Remus… Peter… We have some very important news."

            He paused, looking at me for a reaction.  At the time, I thought he was merely curious; now I suspect he was afraid.  I said nothing, having learned long before that "important news" could be anything.

            "We're going into hiding," he said heavily.  "We have no choice.  Voldemort is after us.  He's after… Harry."

            I remember closing my eyes as the dull thoughts pounded through my brain, personal rage dulled by overuse.  How could Voldemort do something like this?  What gave him the right to force a beautiful family like this to overturn their lives?  I remember swearing quietly, because I could think of no other way to react.  I wonder now what they thought I was angry over.

            "Dumbledore has recommended that we use the Fidelius Charm," James continued, in the monotone voice of someone resigned to something horrible that they are dealing with by being detached.  We had all become so used to extremes in our emotions that we could no longer really feel them, and this was a perfect example.  "We will conceal our location within our Secret Keeper, so for a few days, you won't know where we are.  But when things get settled, then everything will be back to normal."

            "Except that you'll be safe," Peter added.

            And the comment filled me with fury and I leaped from my chair and struck Peter hard across the face and I screamed, "No, James, _he's_ the spy, it's _him_, it's Peter, the worthless _traitor!_" and then Peter was arrested and I was forgiven and Lily and James were never murdered and Sirius was never locked away and I was never alone…

            At least, this is how I remember it when I think of what I should have done.  The reality was markedly different.

            "Yes," I said.  "You'll be safe."

            Again, I agonize in wondering what they thought I meant by that.

            "Our Secret Keeper," said James, "is Sirius."

            They lied to me.  Right to my face, they lied, because they thought it would keep them safe.  They lied to me, and Peter lied to us all.  Lies are why they are not here.  At least I can say that I never lied.


	4. Before: Wormtail

Wormtail

            This never was supposed to happen.  Really, it wasn't.  I didn't want anyone to die.  But I was not brave like James and Sirius and Remus and Lily and even Harry.  I don't know why I was a Gryffindor.  I always hated being expected to be strong.

            I'm weak.

            When the Death Eaters threatened me, I never thought I would be to only one to give in.  Wouldn't anyone make a sacrifice to save their own life?  I expected Sirius and Remus to join, too.  I swear I did.  Then we would all be allies.  When I found out they hadn't—I had no choice but to decide who I wanted to be loyal to.  I hated having to make that decision, I always hate being put on the spot, but I chose the only people I could choose.  I chose the people who would have killed me if I'd chosen otherwise.

            I never voluntarily gave James and Lily and Harry up.  I swear.

            The Dark Lord summoned me to him.  He had gotten word that the Potters suspected one of their friends was a spy.

            "Who do they suspect?" he demanded of me.

            Lies are useless against the Dark Lord.  He sees through them and he will punish you for them.  You have not choice but to tell him the truth.

            "They suspect Lupin.  Remus Lupin."

            "The werewolf who refused us."

            "Yes."

            "Excellent… And you are their Secret Keeper?"

            What could I say?

            I couldn't lie!  He would have known!  He would have killed me!

            I had no choice— It was all I could do— I'll scream it through the worlds of the living and the dead— _This was not my choice!_

            "Yes."

            "Excellent…" the Dark Lord said, his voice dropped to a hiss.  That horrible snake was slithering around him excitedly.

            My stomach was gone.  My heart was in my throat.  I couldn't think.  I knew I was in too deep, but there was nothing I could do…I swear I didn't want any of this to happen.

            Five words changed my life.  Changed all our lives.  Ended theirs.

            "Where are they?"

            "Godric's Hollow."


	5. After: Prongs

**After**

Prongs

            We hadn't finished unpacking, but it was getting late.  Lily was putting Harry to sleep in his new bedroom in our new house in Godric's Hollow, and I was cleaning up his toys and our dishes from a late dinner.  It had been a busy day; all days had been busy since the war began, and especially since we had become such a pivotal part of it.

            For two days now, we had lived here, and we hadn't had a single visitor.  We couldn't even get mail, except from Peter, and he had sent us nothing yet.  I suppose I should have thought that was unusual.  I suppose I should have thought of a lot of things.

            I dropped onto the couch sideways, one arm across the back of it, and gazed out the large window behind me at the evening sky.  It was just after sunset, and the sky was darkening; a few stars were beginning to appear.

            "I'm visible in the northern hemisphere only during the winter months!" came Sirius' voice in my mind.  I smiled at the memory of the conversation.  I think we had been about thirteen at the time.

            I had stared at Sirius incredulously and asked, "What in God's name are you talking about?"

            "I'm a star," he had told me with a grin.

            "I know you think you're great, Sirius, but—"

            "No, really, I'm a star in the constellation Canis Major, visible in the northern hemisphere during the winter months.  It's the brightest star in the night sky."

            I had exchanged a bewildered look with Remus before saying, "How do you know all that?"

            "Hey, if you found your name in an encyclopedia, wouldn't you be a little interested?"

            "Who finds their name in an encyclopedia?" I had asked in my most you-are-a-total-nerd voice.

            "Well… I'm the evil twin brother of the founder of the Roman Empire."

            Peter had snorted with laughter into his pumpkin juice at Remus' unexpected comment.

            Staring, Sirius had asked. "Are you serious?"

            "No, you are," I had joked, causing eyes to roll on all sides.

            "Well, the 'evil' part was a bit of creative interpretation on my part…" Remus had admitted.

            I remember feeling slightly jealous of them; years from now, they're names would live in legend, in books.  "James Potter" was quite possibly the most bland name in the world.  It would never be famous.  As I smiled to myself at the memory—Had I really once been so petty?  I missed those simpler times, I longed for them—Lily came out of Harry's room.

            "I am exhausted," she sighed, flopping next to me and throwing a melodramatic arm over her face.  I smiled at her; little gestures like that, when they come from Lily, are so beautiful.

            "I love you," I said.

            She smiled beneath her arm and answered, "I love you, too."

            We'd said it more to each other over the past week than we had in the rest of our lives.  Being trapped and isolated and unsure where to turn or what do to had made us truly understand how much we mean to each other.

            In unison, knowing that we both needed comfort, we reached out to each other in an embrace and kissed softly.

            "Lily…" I murmured through kisses with my eyes closed.  "The only good things left in the world are the people in this house."

            "Oh, James, that's not true…" she whispered sadly, her breath on my face.

            "I wish it wasn't…"

            I felt hot tears on my cheeks, and I couldn't tell if they were mine or hers.

            "James…" she said shakily, "How long will we have to live like this?  Hiding away, letting innocent people face Voldemort for us…"

            "We're going to keep fighting."

            "We can't.  It's too dangerous."

            "So we'll just let our friends die?"

            We had separated now; though we still had our arms around each other, we were also looking each other full in the face.

            "James, you know that isn't what I meant."

            "But that's what it comes down to."

            "It's not that simple."

            I dropped my gaze.  "I know it's not," I said quietly.  "Nothing is anymore.  I'm just— It's been a rough time."

            "I know.  It's been hard for all of us."  She lifted my face up to meet hers again, but just before out lips met…

            There was a loud _crack_ outside the window, and we pulled away from each other to look.  I saw a black figure glide past the window swiftly.  Lily and I jumped to our feet and pulled our wands from our pockets.

            "Who is it?" Lily hissed.

            "Peter?" I suggested.

            I knew it wasn't Peter.

            I felt Lily's eyes on me, but I didn't look back.  I was terrified of what I'd see in her face.

            "Is it…" she began; I knew what she was thinking.

            "No, it couldn't be," I answered quickly.  It couldn't be.

            "_Alohomora!_" came a high, cold voice outside.

            I swore loudly; Lily screamed.  We had been so confident in the Fidelius Charm that putting up further protection was something we hadn't gotten around to yet.

            "James!" Lily shrieked.

            I heard Harry crying from his bedroom.

            "Lily, take Harry and go!  It's Him!  Go!  Run!  I'll hold him off—"

            She stumbled from the room.  The door between the living room and the entrance hall burst open.

            In less than a second, I was face to face with the most evil wizard of all time.  He was laughing at me, brandishing his wand.  I returned the gesture.

            "You don't scare me," I growled.

            Voldemort continued to laugh.  "It's the end, Potter!  For you and everyone else standing in my way!  But if you give me your son without a fight…"

            "Never!  _Expelli_—"

            "_Avada Kedavra!_"

            It was a pain searing through my body such as I had never experienced… I felt my soul ripped from my body as if Voldemort had reached into my heart to rend it from me with his bare hands… But I didn't scream…

            I died fighting for those I loved.

            I knew who were my friends.

            And who wasn't.


	6. After: Padfoot

Padfoot

            As per the Plan, I visited Peter's house two days after the Fidelius Charm took place.

            First I looked around the outside of it; no signs of a struggle.  Good… Good…

            Then I knocked on the door.

            No answer.

            "Peter?" I yelled, knocking harder and ringing the doorbell.  In these times of tension, it didn't take much to set my body on fire with terror.

            No answer.

            "Wormtail!  Peter!  _Wormtail!  Peter!_"

            I was becoming hysterical, I knew it, I pounded frantically on the door, I ran around the house and looked in all the windows, I saw nothing but darkness.

            "_Alohomora!_" I bellowed at the nearest entrance, the glass back door.  In my uncontrolled fear, the spell went erratic and shattered it; I didn't care.  I darted into the house, over shards of broken glass.

            The house was quiet.  It looked as though Peter had simply gone out.  But he wouldn't have.  We had made arrangements that I would look in on him tonight.  Unless he had forgotten…

            My heart was pounding in my throat, in my head.  If he had forgotten, if he was causing me this stress just because he was an idiot…

            _He's always been an idiot,_ I though viciously, becoming irrational in my frustration and angry fear.  _At school, it had made him eager to fawn over James and I, and Remus, the spy and traitor.  Peter was always so easy to convince of anything.  He would crack under the slightest provocation.  Whatever else we could say for Remus the spy, he was hard to convince of anything once he'd made up his mind.  He would stick to what he believed, and…_

            "Oh God…"

            It struck me so suddenly and heavily that I couldn't believe it hadn't done so before.  I hated myself—but I was now the only one who could possibly save the Potters, because I was the only one who knew the truth.  Everyone thought I was the Secret Keeper, even Remus, Remus the friend, not the spy, the _friend_.  Only Peter knew… Peter the spy.  And now, because of him, I couldn't get to James when he needed me.

            I swore loudly, over and over, screaming, every word I knew.  My thoughts were a barely coherent babble under the icy cold idea lodged firmly at the forefront of my mind—_Find them before it's too late_.

            I looked around desperately, hoping the answer would jump out and find me, but of course it didn't.  And now I was so consumed with a fright that rendered me utterly childish that I wanted to take it out on something.  Or someone.

            With a mindless cry of fury, I slammed my fist into the nearest object, a lamp, and felt the glass shatter beneath my knuckles.  Yet its glittering fragments showed me the answer as they rained down on a piece of paper on which were written a few words in handwriting I would have known anywhere, that of James Potter.

            _Godric's Hollow_.

            That was it; that was where they were.  It couldn't be anything else.  The information was general enough that he could reveal it instead of the Secret Keeper, but it would be enough for me to find them.

            If I had to die fighting Voldemort, at least I would die for the Potters, for James and for Lily and for Harry, the little boy whose life they had trusted me with in more ways than one.  A living testament to their love for each other and their faith in me and all that was good in the world.

            _Don't think now, just act.  Hasn't that always been your motto, Sirius?_

            I sprinted outside to where my motorcycle awaited, jumped onto it and took off, the motor's roar echoing my own internal screaming.  I flew to Godric's Hollow as quickly as I could force the bike to go, not feeling the cold wind on my face.  Nothing could be colder than the fear that almost paralyzed me.  I don't remember the flight.

            I arrived at Godric's Hollow.

            I don't know how I didn't die on the spot—

            I don't know how I didn't just drop onto my knees where I stood and sob until my body ran dry—

            I don't know how I didn't physically fall apart at the sight—

            I stumbled blindly across the smoking ruins of their home… I was shaking violently, I could barely stand—

            Their bodies…

            A saw what looked like a hand, visible from underneath a large piece of debris, a piece of what had been their home.  It was a man's hand.  I don't know where I summoned the strength from, but I heaved what looked to me like half a wall of off the body of James Potter.  He wouldn't want to be hidden like that.  I wanted to look into his face again.

            He was beaten.  He was bruises and blood.  Underneath the mask of death, I could see the face of the person whom I had sworn to protect, that face that would remain forever fixed in an expression of defiance, so fitting for the man who wore it, whom I put above anything and everything else…

            Everything except the two other people who were here somewhere…

            I cast around helplessly

            Red hair.  Only Lily had hair like that, deep and vibrant red.  I always thought her hair reflected her passion for life.  Its colour was not diminished.  I looked more closely; most of her body was exposed.  She was not as covered in blood and death as her husband.  She looked more pure.  Her face was one of desperation.  She hadn't died fighting, as James had, I could tell.

            My heart performed another lurch that threatened to make me ill, when I saw what lay next to her—stuffed animals.  A stag.  A dog.

            _oh God oh God she died next to Harry protecting him oh God_

            And I did drop to my hands and knees, silent tears pouring from my face, when I saw his tiny body… The body of a baby… not moving… I couldn't form thoughts adequate to express the injustice of this murder, this horrible, horrible, blind violence and death.  I could look James in the face, I could look Lily in the face, but Harry…

            I forced myself.  I wouldn't hide from this.  Damn it, I was a Gryffindor and I was loyal and James had seen worse things.  The least I could do was look at his son, damn it.  That was nothing compared to what they had endured.

            I forced my eyes up, to look at those of young Harry, and instantly felt a new sensation so powerful that it made me light-headed… relief…

            He was breathing.

            He was bleeding.

            He was not moving.

            And he was not dead.

            I let out a strangled cry, almost against my will.  He wasn't dead!  I hadn't failed my friends in what mattered most!  _His_ was the most important life, and Voldemort had not taken it.

            How?  The question emerged to ripple dumbly under my numb brain.  I found I didn't care.  It didn't matter how, it just matter that it was true.  Laughter was bubbling up from inside me.  How could I be kneeling here, next to the lifeless bodies of my friends, and laugh?  Because Harry was alive, that was how.

            I crawled across the rubble to him and picked him up clumsily.  He was unconscious, and there was a cut across his forehead in the shape of a lightning bolt.  But he was alive…and he was mine now.

            Terror stabbed me.  I was Harry's guardian and godfather.  He was my godson, I knew that consciously, but—I had always told James that all my job as godfather entailed was leading him into a life of trouble-making.

            "Godfather, right?" I had said.  "Like the Mafia.  I'm the Godfather."

            "Yeah, and then it's my job, as the father, to steer him straight again," James had agreed.

            But now James wasn't here.  I had to be the father, too.  Somehow I thought I would be much better at being a bad influence than a good one.  Remus would be the good guy… Remus, who was innocent, because Peter was guilty—

            Peter.  He was out there somewhere.  He had sold us all out.

            I would kill him.

            Another realization struck me.  No one else knew about Peter.  They all thought I was the Secret Keeper.  When the world found out about this… they would hunt me down and let Peter go free…

            I was the only one who knew the truth.  Even Dumbledore's word was against me, and Remus'…

            Again I cursed myself for not trusting Remus.  For being an idiot.  I had been so sure.

            _I wouldn't have risked so much if I hadn't been sure,_ I told myself furiously.

            _That doesn't matter,_ I answered myself.

            I could still try to make it up to them, in some small way.  I could raise Harry into a good person and strong wizard.  I could find Peter—and kill him—the way he deserved to die—before the Ministry found me.

            There I knelt, with my twin responsibilities, one of which was beginning to stir in my arms.  He was starting to cry; I felt more helpless than him.  At least he knew what he was supposed to do.  I didn't know where to begin.

            "Oh, Harry, please don't cry," I whispered, standing up to walk with him the way I had seen Lily do.

            Could I be a mother, too?  Could I be everything to this child?  If I didn't, who would?

            I wiped the blood from his forehead, flinching at the sight of the cut.  Voldemort had wounded him badly.

            Where was Voldemort?  And why was Harry not dead?  Hadn't he been the target?  I was scared to even think such questions, for fear that I would get answers I didn't want.

            Because I couldn't think of anything else to say, and because I was still unused to using his name without those of his parents nearby, I said in a sing-song voice as I walked, "Harry, Harry, please stop crying, Harry.  Harry Potter, don't cry, Little Pr—Little Harry.  Baby Harry."  I wanted him to stop so that I could go hunt down Peter, but I knew it was ridiculous to think that I could now that I was a fugitive and, for all intents and purposes, a single father.__

            "Harry?"

            I jumped, though I recognized the gruff voice.  "Hagrid?"

            His figure was unmistakable.  He was massive.  He stepped through the rubble, looking around in horror.  "Sirius?" he asked quietly.

            I realized I was shaking slightly, and I held Harry tighter to stop myself.

            "Hagrid… What are you doing here?"  I know I was being paranoid, but I didn't know who I could trust.  Except Harry.  Except Remus.  Everyone else was out to get me.  Everyone else thought I had been the Secret Keeper.  I didn't occur to me then that even Remus would, of course, believe me guilty; all I managed to think about him was that he had not been a traitor, and that made him my friend.

            "Dumbledore sent me," Hagrid replied, and I could hear him controlling the tears behind his words.  "He said… You-Know-Who… disappeared."

            "What?  Lord Voldemort is gone?"

            "Harry's alive, isn' he?  Tha' means You-Know-Who didn' do what he wanted.  Summat stopped him."

            "But _what_?  How could anything stop him?"

            Hagrid only shook his head, closing his eyes to block out the images of death and destruction that saturated the senses here in Godric's Hollow.  That name still means death to me.

            "Can I… Can I hold Harry?" asked Hagrid after a moment of silence, looking up at me with those beetle eyes.

            "Of course."

            I handed the baby, the last Potter, over to the huge man, who carefully took him in his own massive arms with impressive gentleness.  He was used to caring for animals as delicate as wounded unicorns, after all, though in my mind, Harry was a far more pure and vulnerable creature.  He would never, in future years, be as innocent as he had been on that day—that was the day he lost his innocence forever.

            We stood there, looking at the child who meant everything to everyone just then, and finally I said, "I should take him somewhere safe."

            "No, Sirius, I'm supposed ter take him."

            I looked up into Hagrid's eyes.  "What?  What did you say?"

            "Dumbledore told me I'm supposed ter bring Harry to a place he's got set up fer him, with his family, some relatives of his mother's…"

            Lily's words echoed in my mind, dark words about her sister who hated all things magical.  It was unacceptable that Harry Potter should live with such people.  It was just wrong.  I didn't know who the hell Dumbledore thought he was, suggesting that.

            "Lily's relatives are _Muggles_!" I said viciously.  "He doesn't belong with them!  He belongs in our world!"  I heard my voice trembling.  As much as I felt dwarfed by my new responsibility, I didn't want Harry taken out of my life.  He was my last link to anything good in the world.

            "I'm jus' gonna do what Dumbledore told me ter."

            "That's not what Lily and James wanted," I insisted, still frustrated by the fact that neither my voice nor my body would stop trembling.  One more thing I had lost control over.  I wouldn't lose Harry.  "I'm his godfather, Hagrid, give him to me."

            "Sirius, I've got orders," Hagrid said, holding Harry steadfastly.  "If yeh've got a problem, talk ter Dumbledore, 'cause I'm not about ter change anything he's got planned."

            His advice gave me a sudden inspiration.  If I let Harry go, just for now, to live with his relatives, whom I was still convinced were horrible people, I would at least be free to find Peter.  Then, once my name was cleared, I would take everything up with Dumbledore, who would rearrange his plans and give Harry to me.  It would be a little tricky, since the Ministry was surely hunting for me already, but I could do it; finding Peter would take a day at the most.  He was predictable.  The one thing he'd ever done that I hadn't expected was—

            Well, I knew what I was dealing with after this.

            "Okay," I said finally.  "Take my bike, Hagrid.  I won't be needing it anymore."

            I offered the bike because it was so well-known as property of Sirius Black, who was now a criminal on the run.  It hurt me almost as much to say goodbye to that bike as it did to say goodbye to Harry, for some stupid reason.  I guess because it was like admitting that my life had been changed forever, and I was no longer free, just a rebel without a cause.  I had a damn good cause now, but no real way to rebel, other than to find Peter and make him puppy chow.  Woof.

            I make little jokes in the worst situations; everyone knows that I'm approaching my most traumatized when I start making stupid jokes, and that I'm there when I actually start laughing at them.

            "Thanks, Sirius," Hagrid said.  "Yer sure?"

            "Absolutely.  I have…things to do.  I won't need it."

            "I'll see yeh, then."

            "I hope so."

            I watched Hagrid fly away, taking everything I valued with him.  He shrank in the distance, and my mind returned to the moment.  I Disapparated, bound for Peter's house; he would go there, since he had nowhere else to run.  If he was smart, he would know I was after him… so it was likely that he wouldn't suspect a thing.

            It's hard to remember how much I hated him just then— The years of pure venom I built up against him all blur together, so that it's hard even for me to remember a day when I didn't wish him the pain of a thousand deaths.  I still yearn to wring the life out of his worthless rat neck…

            I waited outside his house, on his doorstep, for him to return.  He shouldn't have made me wait so long; it only gave my rage a chance to simmer and boil and reach an all-consuming level, so that all I could see in my mind's eye was myself killing him—images of his death—of James and Lily's bodies—Harry crying—Hagrid flying away—the end.

            Sunrise bled across the horizon.

            How I spotted him I don't know, other than to say that my whole body was so tuned to seek him out that I could have spotted him from further away then I did.  I froze, like a dog that had found its prey, because that's what I was.  But I did not have the patience of an animal; they never kill for emotional reasons, for _revenge_.

            I leapt to my feet and screamed, "PETER!"

            He jumped; he physically left the ground.  He was wringing his hands, his eyes darting around, looking perfectly terrified.  He had known I was looking for him.  He couldn't have been that stupid, even though I had hoped he was.  No, he knew me well enough to know that his life was forfeit if I found him, and so he no doubt had been slinking around, avoiding me, and when he had gone so many hours without encountering me, had decided to chance returning to his home.

            Do I know my old school friends or what?

            Obviously not.

            I whipped out my wand, not caring that we were in a Muggle area, and Peter bolted.  I went after him, my bloodlust granting me preternatural endurance and speed.  My heartbeat pounded out my mantra.

            _Peter.  Traitor.  Wormtail.  Traitor._

Harder and faster…

            _Murder.  Traitor.  Peter.  Wormtail._

            Over and over…

            _PETER!  TRAITOR!  WORMTAIL!  MURDER!_

He darted into an alley.  I let out a cry of victory through my ragged breathing as I drew near his hiding place.  Less than a block away.  Now I had him.  Now I would kill him.

            He jumped out, tears streaming down his face, which was twisted in agony.

            "HOW DARE YOU CRY FOR YOURSELF!"  I roared.  He couldn't have been crying for anyone else.  I believe it to this day.

            The Muggles all around drew back, transfixed in shock.

            "Sirius, no!"

            Mothers clutched their frightened children to them, terrified by the confrontation.

            "I'LL KILL YOU, PETER, BUT YOU DESERVE WORSE!"

            Sobbing, he cried out at the top of his voice, in the middle of a street full of staring Muggles, "LILY AND JAMES, SIRIUS, HOW COULD YOU!"

            I realized in one thunderstruck moment what he was doing, but it all happened so quickly.  He drew a knife, he cut off his finger—

            I thrust my wand in his direction—

            "PETER, YOU—"

            Never before or since did Peter Pettigrew move more quickly than another one of the Marauders.  I didn't hear the incantation, or I don't remember it, or it was lost in my own fury.  I did feel the blast.

            It was not strong enough even to hurt a wizard like myself, but as I felt its force wash over me I knew it was more than adequate to take the life of a Muggle, and there were many Muggles within even closer range than I was…

            When the smoke cleared, there was no Peter.  There was his finger lying amid tatters of his robes and his blood.

            There were bodies everywhere… Muggle bodies… Those left alive were screaming, running…

            I knew what he had done.  He had not simply let the blame fall to me by default; he had framed me.  Not just for betraying the Potters, but now for murdering all these people, as well as himself.

            He had killed James and destroyed his family.

            He had sentenced me to lifetime of suffering in Azkaban.

            He had left Remus alone to pick up the pieces of all our grief and betrayal.

            He had gotten away clean.

            In a sick way, it was brilliant.

            And I laughed.

            It swelled within me and burst out, all my hyperextended and stretched emotions, in laughter.  The Ministry officials were coming, swooping down out of nowhere.  They had just been waiting for this.

            I laughed.

            "How many dead?"

            "I'm still counting."

            "Oh, God, children…"

            But not Harry!  He was safe with his relatives.

            I laughed.

            "He said he was going to kill Pettigrew."

            "Witnesses said he mentioned Lily and James."

            "Of course, he was their Secret Keeper."

            "And a Death Eater."

            Yes, that was Peter, their Secret Keeper and Death Eater.  Their personal Death Eater.  They thought it was me!  How silly!

            I laughed.

            "Sirius Black, you are under arrest for the crime of murder."

            That was why I was being manhandled, handcuffed, taken away.

            And still I laughed.

            What else could  I do?


	7. After: Moony

Moony

            My world changed the minute I heard that pounding on my front door in the middle of the night.  It awakened my abruptly, and my heart nearly jumped from my body.  In times of war, it doesn't take much to put me into a state of paranoia.

            I threw on a robe over my pajamas, because I suspected I might have to go out in public at a moment's notice, and ran to answer the door.  The people on the other side were already shouting at me angrily by the time I arrived.

            "Remus Lupin!  This is the Department of Magical Law Enforcement!  Open the door!"

            Although it could easily have been someone worse, the words filled me with dread, and my heart sank.  What could they possibly want?  I pulled the door open.

            "Mr Lupin, you're a known associate of Sirius Black.  Do you know where he is?"

            "Right now?"

            "Please cooperate, Mr Lupin."

            They were in no mood for stupid questions.  There were at least six of them, dressed in black, faces set in determination.  I tried to clear my head and not be intimidated by their official appearance, which reminded me of the Grim Reaper's attorneys.  The tallest of them all, a man with graying hair and a gaunt face, was addressing me.

            "I—I'm sorry, I don't know where he is, if he's not at home…"

            "He's not.  So he didn't inform you of any plans he had tonight?"

            "No…"

            "And he hasn't contacted you tonight?"

            "No…"

            "And you are willing to testify to that effect under Veritaserum?"

            "N—What?" The question threw me off.  "I mean, yes!  Yes, it's all true!  What's going on?"

            Instead of answering me, the man who had been speaking turned to his associates and said, "Dispatch forces back to the scene to search for evidence.  I'm going to continue this interrogation."

            The other men Disapparated in a volley of loud cracks, leaving me alone with their leader.  He stepped past me into my house, but of course I wasn't about to protest.

            "Mr Lupin, I have a few more questions for you."

            "Yes, of course, but can you please tell me what's going on?"

            "When we finish with this.  Right now, you are being considered a possible suspect."

            My heart changed state and location again, this time settling firmly in my chest and turning to ice.  It would not remain there for long.

            "Suspect?  For what?"

            "Just answer my questions.  You were a close personal friend of Lily and James Potter?"

            "Yes.  Wait…" Terror struck me.  "Were?  What happened?"

            "You knew their son as well, Harry Potter?"

            "Of course I know Harry!  Tell me what happened!"

            "And you knew they were under the Fidelius Charm?"

            "Yes!  What happened?"

            "Did they tell you who was their Secret Keeper?"

            "Sirius Black!  He's their best friend—"

            "When was the last time you were in contact with the Potters?"

            "I don't know… The day before they moved… A few days ago… Maybe three…"

            My mind would not focus.  I could only hear that phrase:  …were a close personal friend… Past tense.  No longer "are".

            "When was the last time you were in contact with Sirius Black?"

            "The same day!  We helped them pack!  What—"

            "Did they tell you where they were moving to?"

            "No, that's the secret Sirius is keeping…"

            "And you haven't seen or heard from any of them since?"

            Something in me snapped, as though the wolf had decided it wanted freedom more than once a month.

            "I ALREADY TOLD YOU THAT!  DAMN IT, TELL ME WHAT HAPPENED!"

            I reached for him, to grab his collar, but he was well-trained to deal with potential threats and I was stunned to find myself knocked off my feet by his spell.  Blasted backwards, I struck the wall of my living room and dropped to the floor in a heap, unable to lift my head.  The other man remained totally calm.

            "Apparently Sirius Black broke the Fidelius Charm."

            I snapped my head up to look at him.  "What?"

            "The Potters lived in Godric's Hollow.  We found their house destroyed less than an hour ago, having been called to the scene by…unusual magical activity."

            "What happened?"

            "He Who Must Not Be Named attacked the Potters."

            My head swam.  It couldn't be true, it simply couldn't be.  There couldn't be a world without Lily and James Potter in it.

            "They were murdered.  But…"

            There couldn't be anything to add.  Nothing else mattered.

            "…Harry wasn't."

            My head spun.  "He…wasn't what?"  I didn't want to misunderstand and have my only surviving hope shattered.

            "Wasn't murdered."

            The words choked out of me almost against my will.  "He's _alive_?  Voldemort didn't…"

            "He tried," the man interrupted me, visibly shaken by the mention of that name.  His fear annoyed me; was the sound of that name the worst thing he had faced today?  "But he failed.  That's all we know."

            For a long moment, I didn't know what to think or do or ask first.  Then I remembered Lily and James' wishes, if something had ever happened to them.  I blurted, "Sirius was supposed to… Where's Harry?"

            "Albus Dumbledore contacted us and said he was taking care of that situation."

            I wanted to ask more, but there was nothing else he could tell me.  Instead I cast around and asked shakily, "Peter.  What about Peter?"

            "We are trying to locate Mr Pettigrew."

            "Does he know yet?"

            "We have not yet contacted him, but he may."

            I realized I was still kneeling on the floor, and stood up.  "You'll tell me if you learn anything, won't you?  Right away?"

            "Actually, we're taking you into custody."

            "_What?!_  Why?"

            "We can afford no risks."

            So he handcuffed me, put an Anti-Disapparition Jinx on me, and led me outside.  I didn't resist.  What was the point?  What was the point in anything anymore, I wondered, consumed with grief, though rage was just beginning to penetrate it.

            Sirius… the traitor…

            We flew to the Ministry, arriving just as the sunrise began to bleed across the horizon.

            They took my through all the paperwork and processes involved in being placed under arrest, and I went without a fight.  I had nothing to fight for.  If they wanted to lock me up, why should I refuse?  If that was what it took to catch Sirius…

            But part of me didn't want him to be caught.  Part of me still couldn't believe that he had done this.  He would _never_ do this.  This man would have slit his own throat before giving up James and Lily, I was sure of it.  Yet—he had betrayed us all.  There was no other explanation.

            When they removed my handcuffs and slammed the door to the holding cell shut behind me, I lost my grip.  I dropped to the floor again and sobbed.

            Time lost all meaning as I huddled there on the cold floor, racked with sobs, crying out in rage and loss.  The wolf in me emerged viciously, angry at the world, as the human in me screamed all the emotions too great to be put into words other than the same five names, over and over.  I wanted to hurt something, someone, for making all this happen to the people in the world who deserved it least.

            Finally, they came for me.  The news wasn't good.

            "Mr Lupin?  We have some…good news for you."

            The death glare I fixed him with must have put a severe dent in the ongoing werewolf rights campaign, but at that point I would have been willing enough to spend the rest of my days in oppression.  My suffering couldn't have gotten any worse.  I didn't even bother to address how inappropriate his use of the word "good" was, but to judge by the look of fear on the frail man's face and the fact that he had come escorted by two other men, I didn't have to; he was intimidated already.  Retrospectively, the Ministry officials could probably hear my raging from their offices on the floor above the holding cells.  They must have heard me screaming the names of my friends:  "JAMES! … SIRIUS! … PETER! … LILY! … HARRY! …"

            "We've decided to release you, since it is apparent that you played no part in the, er, dark events of the past twenty-four hours."

            I restrained myself from killing him only by not having a weapon or being an Animagus.

            "However, we also must inform you of some less pleasant news."

            I buried my face in my hands.  "What?  Sirius and Peter are dead now, too?"

            "Not exactly… You'll be pleased to know that we found Black and have him in custody."

            My heart lurched feebly.  Whether with joy or pain, I still don't know.  My emotions had all become so deadened with overuse that I couldn't distinguish one from the other.  I suddenly understood the old proverb that there is a fine line between love and hate.

            "Unfortunately, we were unable so apprehend him before he… managed to… commit further atrocities…"

            I swore, loudly and bluntly.  "Don't sugar coat it for me.  Do you think you can possibly have something worse to say than what I've already heard tonight?"

            Drawing a shaky breath, the man explained it all in a steady stream of almost monotone words.

            "Your friend Mr Pettigrew found Black before we did, cornering him in a Muggle street.  According to witnesses, Mr Pettigrew accused Black of betraying the Potters to Voldemort, and made a move to attack.  Black attacked first, and Mr Pettigrew and twelve Muggles all received the full force of the curse.  They are all dead.  Black seems to have been driven mad by the apparent downfall of his master, who, according to all evidence, was destroyed when he failed to kill young Harry Potter.  Black was taken straight to Azkaban prison."

            I was winded.

            There was nothing left but me, and nothing left in me.

            Suddenly I didn't want to leave the small, enclosed space of my cell.  I didn't want to be outside, alone in the world.

            When, a few hours later, I was, I felt very cold, as though my soul was no longer in my body to keep me warm.

            I spent much of that day outside.  When evening fell and the stars came out, I heard a young Sirius' voice echoing in my mind.

            "No, really, I'm a star in the constellation Canis Major, visible in the northern hemisphere during the winter months.  It's the brightest star in the night sky."

            It had just turned to November.  Would he be visible?

            "Well… I'm the evil twin brother of the founder of the Roman Empire."

            I was not evil, though so many were.

            I found Orion—one of Sirius' cousins, Bellatrix, is his shoulder—and followed his belt south east until I saw the one star that shone brighter than all the others.  Yes, Sirius couldn't be named after anything other than the brightest star in the sky.  Immortal… Brilliant… Higher than everything… Bigger and brighter even than the sun.  Like his mischievous and charming smile.

            What had gone wrong?  Why had everything changed?

            "Sirius…"

            He had always been there for me at school.  We joked about battling for the position of Alpha male, but it had always been his in everything, though I so often said that, as a Prefect, I deserved the title…

            "Why, Sirius?"

            I had thought he always would be here.  I could never have imagined anything tearing him away from his friends.

            "How could you, Sirius?  Weren't you our friend?"

            Underneath all the raw pain, a strange sensation rippled.

            "I hate you, Sirius," I said softly, "more than anything because I just can't bring myself to hate you.  I'm not like you.  I can never hate those I count as friends."

            For the next twelve years, I lived with my hatred of Sirius Black.

            Never for one moment did I hate him.


	8. After: Wormtail

Wormtail

            I never meant for this to happen.

            I ran away.

            I didn't know what else to do.

            I couldn't control it.

            I was lost.

            I never meant for this to happen.

            I made them all suffer.

            I suffered, too.

            I never meant to do it.

            I swear I never meant for this to happen.

            I had no choice.

            I'm sorry.

            Please forgive me.

            Please.

            Please, Sirius, please, Remus, please.

            I never meant to hurt anyone.

            I swear.

            I never meant… I never meant…

            Never.


End file.
